shaded parts of the Haram al-Sharif and Hamid marked his position as they passed an aged tree known as the “Prophet’s olive tree”.
“Do you make any escorts? Is he alone?”
“Undetermined. One possible at your one o’clock. LONGBOW, are you in position?”
“Almost,” Thomas whispered, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. His fingers flew as he removed the false bottom from his camera case, lifting out the Barrett M98B in two pieces, a Leupold Mark IV scope mounted along the upper.
He had done this so many times. So many places. Despite his weakness, he could have done it with his eyes closed. Leaning back against the tower stone, he reassembled the sniper rifle and slapped a full 10-round mag of.338 Lapua into the magazine well.
Extending the bipod under the barrel, he moved from the steps into the belfry, taking up his position. A waist-high railing surmounted the balcony, walls of white limestone anchoring each corner of the tower. Beside him hung the three bells, engraved in German. His hand brushed over the cool bronze of the smallest bell, tracing the lettering with his fingers. “
Free indeed, Thomas snorted, not recognizing the quotation. Held in bondage by violence and terror was more like it.
The view was amazing. From where he stood he could look down upon the entire Old City, along with much of the rest of Jerusalem. Looking to the south, he saw the Tower of David upon the wall of old Jerusalem, its stone construction having weathered the tempest of well-nigh three thousand years. Off to the west, the double sky-blue domes of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. To the north, far in the distance rose the heights of Mt. Scopus and the new skyscrapers that were being built around Jerusalem. A city of commerce and life. Peace? Anything but.
Lying prone upon the balcony, his body half-concealed in the shadow of the tower, Thomas turned his attention to the east, toward the Dome of the Rock and the surrounding enclosure. Sweeping the area with the massive 14x scope, he quickly picked out the details pointed out by Hamid and Tex. There. He focused in on a face, recognizable from the photos he had been shown. Harun Larijani.
The proprietary BORS software system on the scope was turned on, feeding him targeting data. He settled the cross-hairs just above Harun’s right shoulder and keyed his mike. “LONGBOW to FULLBACK, I have eyes on the target.”
“No!” President Hancock shouted, turning from the window to glare at his chief of staff. “I have made my orders clear and I want them to be followed.”
Ian Cahill shook his head. “I don’t understand your opposition to this, Mr. President. The CIA has laid out the case clearly. Once the meeting with Tahir Husayni was authorized, we tipped our hand. There’s no going back.”
Hancock swore softly, passing a hand over his forehead. “There is no such thing as a singular course, Ian. There are always choices, and I have made mine. Here-now, a month before the election, this administration must
“We’re already tied to it!” Cahill exclaimed. “Mr. President, I warned you when you first took office not to play these type of games with the Agency. David Lay is an old hand. Trust me, try to pull the rug out from under him, and he will retaliate.”
“He needs to be taken down a peg or two,” Hancock nodded.
Cahill snorted. “That has been tried in the past, and on the whole, I wouldn’t advise it as a strategy.”
“Well, if you’re doing such a great job of strategy, why are we trailing in the polls?”
“As a wise man once said, ‘It’s the economy, stupid’,” the chief of staff retorted. “Until oil prices normalize, you’re in trouble.”
“The price of oil can be handled,” Hancock replied forcefully.
“How?”
The President looked up, as though jarred from his thoughts. Rattled. “I don’t know. Release oil from the Strategic Reserve or something. Just do me a favor and get the CIA out of Jerusalem!”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cahill sighed. “Let me place another call to Langley.”
“Subject is heading toward the Islamic Museum.” Harry stared at the surveillance screens as Hamid continued to speak. “Body language is nervous, EAGLE SIX, he’s checking his back every few seconds. Closing the following distance without him bolting is going to be difficult.”
“Then hold where you are,” Harry replied, glancing over at Farshid Hossein. The major sat a few feet away, leaning back in an office chair. His posture was relaxed, the look on his face one of peace, if not complete boredom.
“LONGBOW to EAGLE SIX, the target is sweating profusely,” Thomas announced. Harry couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
“You can see that?”
“Listen, a 14x Leupold and I can count the drops for you. Interested?”
“The child is not up to this,” Hossein interjected quietly.
“What do you mean?” Harry demanded, swiveling toward the major.
Hossein cleared his throat. “Harun and I have a history. We have worked together in the past, before my-my untimely death.”
Anger flashed in Harry’s eyes. “And you didn’t tell us?”
The major shrugged. “I was under the impression that I was your prisoner. If you want a spirit of mutual cooperation, then you will have to treat me accordingly.”
“We had a deal,” Harry hissed, leaning forward in his chair.
“Your deal,” Hossein began, “was with the Ayatollah Isfahani-not with me. In the end, we are focused on a shared objective.”
“I doubt that.”
Hossein snorted. “My objective is to prevent the release of this toxin-without sacrificing my own life on the altar of the ‘greater good’, if at all possible. I need assurances that I will not spend the rest of my life rotting in an American prison after all this is over.”
For a moment, Harry seemed to consider his words. “We
“So, our prodigal’s TACSAT is working once more?” David Lay asked with an ironic smile.
Ron Carter cocked his head to the side, staring hard at the DCIA. “I understood Nichols to be following your orders to the letter.”
“He is,” Lay acknowledged with a frown. “I’m sure you understand the necessity of this being deniable. What
